


Money Matters

by PunchGrunkLove (HunkleJunk)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunkleJunk/pseuds/PunchGrunkLove
Summary: After a helluva day at the Mystery Shack, you find out what matters most.
Relationships: Stan Pines/Reader, Stan Pines/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Fluffy one shots





	Money Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Still trying to get these one shots out until I can get back to the chapter stories! I hope you are enjoying these!

It was a cool spring day. Tourism had just started to pick up again. You had only worked at the Mystery Shack a few months, but you had come to thoroughly enjoy the job. The place was just your kind of weird. From the strange taxidermy attractions, to the fanny pack clad, over eager visitors. It kept you busy enough with cleaning, restocking, and dealing with tourists that you felt you had done an honest day's work, but there were also nice lulls that kept you from feeling too drained.

Then there was your boss... Mister Mystery.

He gave you a tour on your first day of work, and it was mesmerizing. His booming baritone showman's voice, seeming to reverberate through your body, as he moved his arms animatedly while he took you through each attraction telling you the enthralling tales behind each poorly sewn together taxidermy piece. Even through the suit, his constant movement showed the swell of his bulky muscles as they flexed with each new action. You wondered if all of the visitors got the same show. If all the women left, knees weak, like you did; wondering what he looked like out of the suit. What that voice would sound like in more intimate situations. It was thoughts like this that left you flustered and distracted the rest of your first day of work.

You could have shaken it off, and forgotten about what a magnificent specimen your boss was, within a couple days, falling into a normal boss/employee routine, if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't like a normal boss. In the mornings while you opened up the shop, you would see him wander the restricted area of the shack in his boxers and wife beater with seemingly no shame of the delicious amount of skin he was showing.

He was broad and strong. Barrel chested, with a carpet of silver chest hair that peaked out the top of his undershirt. Those arms were just as impressive as you had thought, perhaps even more so, and his thighs thick with a girth of powerful muscle.

He would always come to you, dressed as such, to offer you a cup of coffee, made just the way you liked it, as you restocked the shelves for the days visitors. A lopsided grin on his devilishly handsome face. His brilliant chestnut round eyes seeming to sparkle in the morning sun. He was sexy. He was tempting. On top of that, he was nice. It wasn't fair.

On slow days he would hang out with you; leaning his hulking frame on the counter, balancing his weight on one burly arm. He would grin his charming grin and rake his thick fingers through his fez-free silver hair and leave you spellbound with fantastic tales of his boxing days, of crimes you were never sure he actually committed, (but you really wouldn't put it past him). He knew how to weave a story. Making you feel like you were there, and by the time he was done, your adrenaline was pumping and you were always left breathless.

You often wondered if he could ever be interested in someone like you. At the end of the day though, the only thing Stan Pines ever really seemed interested in, was the amount of money in the cash register. You couldn't help but like him though. Even if it wasn't reciprocated, that was okay with you. You would do your best to make him happy in your own ways.

You used your charms on the customers instead; you sweet talked, and flirted, and sales started to increase noticeably. You didn't ask for overtime when you needed to stay late to clean up and stock after unusually busy days. You took your work seriously, and Stan noticed. He was liberal with his praise and It filled you. His words of approval were like water to a man dying of thirst.

On especially good days, you could count on his hand rubbing down your back with pride, as he grinned. "We're a great team kid!" he would cry enthusiastically.

On these days you knew you were able to make him happy and that was enough.

At the moment, Stan was out with a tour group, while you sat behind the counter waiting for them to return. The cleaning and restocking already completed, so you waited, bored for the moment, when a new customer came in.

He was tall and lanky with greasy dark blonde hair slicked back, with, what you could only assume was his natural oils, since thick ropes of it escaped and hung over his eyes and into his greasy, acne scarred face. He wore a hoodie and dirty jeans. He looked far from your average tourist, and something about him immediately put you on edge.

"Hey!" You started, trying to sound cheery, but the hint of nervousness creeping through your voice. "Welcome to the Mystery Shack! The next tour will be starting in about 15 minutes, if you want to look around the gift shop in that time, please feel free!"

"15 minutes?" He asked. His voice was scratchy and low. He began to walk towards the counter.

"Yeah.. Umm. Current tour should be back soon. " you blurted out and tried to smile, although you could feel your heart leap into your throat.

He smiled back. It was wretched. There was no joy in it; only malice. "That's plenty of time." he said and produced a small handgun from the front pocket of his hoodie. By now, he was on the opposite side of the counter. The barrel of the gun inches from your forehead. You froze for a moment, in shock.

" **MONEY! NOW! BITCH**!" he yelled.

You took a deep breath. You grasped the counter for support and tried to regulate your breathing and keep a calm facade.

" ** _No_**." You replied evenly as you could, even though there was a small quake to your voice. You stared into his beady greyish eyes and gathered yourself. You could see the barrel of the gun already shaking in his hand. "If you are gonna shoot me, shoot me, if you want to go to jail for murder over the matter of a hundred bucks, that's fine by me, but that's the only way you're getting this cash!" You snarled at him, you're own hands shaking as your grip on the counter tightened into a white knuckled clench.

His look became desperate and panicked as he looked at you and then frantically around him, trying to figure out what to do.

Finally he shook the gun threateningly at your face and screamed, " ** _DO YOU WANNA DIE? JUST HAND OVER THE MONEY!"_**

Full of resolve, and determined to call his bluff, you yelled back, " ** _DO IT THEN! YOU AREN'T GETTING IT!_** "

Suddenly the screen door to the shack slammed open with such force it was knocked all the way off of one of its hinges. Stan lurched through the door, panting heavily, face red, and full of rage. " ** _GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!_** " he shouted at the would-be robber.

Stan probably had one hundred pounds of pure muscle on the guy, but the guy was quick, and was able to sprint lightning fast past Stan and through the door before Stan could catch him. The sound of the squeal of tires sounded seconds later as he pulled out of the parking lot.

You could feel the blood rush from your face. All the fear you probably _should_ have been experiencing during the conflict making its appearance now that the adrenaline was leaving your body. You looked up at Stan, determined to thank him, not even sure if you had strength enough for words, when you saw his face. Stan was still fuming. His eyes, enraged, and narrowed on _you_.

" ** _YOU_**." He growled, his face turned into a sneer. "Stay here."

He turned and left to return to the tour group that had finally caught up to him in the parking lot.

As soon as he was gone your legs could no longer support you. What had you done wrong? The money was safe. Nothing was missing. He was so mad. It terrified you worst than the gun. You sunk to the floor, gathering your knees to your chest and began to sob, the entire experience washing over you. Your body trembling violently.

It was awful, and it wasn't your fault, and now Stan hated you, and he was coming back to fire you, was all that you could think of as you clutched yourself tightly and cried loudly.

Stan finally came back, without the crowd. He flipped the open sign to closed, and looked at you on the floor. His face still full of fury.

" ** _ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?_** " he yelled.

You gasped and your crying stopped at the sheer shock of it. You could have never imagined Stan saying something like that to you, and here he was yelling it at you while you sobbed.

You looked up at him wide eyed and mouth agape in horror.

" ** _WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?_** " He yelled, bringing his hands up to his temples then flinging them away in angry exasperation.

He stormed in small circles around the entrance to the shack muttering to himself, as you looked on in confused terror.

Finally he stomped over towards you and knelt down. His eyes narrowing on your tear streaked face. A hand shot out towards your face, and instinctually you ducked from it, crawling backwards. His eyes opened wider in shock.

"Are-Are you hurt?" He choked out, swallowing thickly. His hand retreating to his side, keeping his distance. You shook your head frantically 'no.'

His angry disposition, now replaced by confusion. "C'mere. Lemme check." he said. His voice now softer, but still stoic and firm. He reached out his hand again slower this time, your eyes, still filled with fear and widened, and you recoiled.

" ** _Stop Stan_**!" You yelled. "Je-Jesus Fucking Christ Stan.. You're **_SCARING_** me!" tears began to run down your cheeks again, and you covered your face in your hands shamefully.   
  
"If you're gonna fire me, fire me... but this wasn't my fault" you cried out as your shoulder shook. "I saved your merch. I saved your money. It's all you care about, and I did my job. I don't know-" Your sobs became heaving and you struggled to get the last part out, "I don't know why you are SO mad at me!"

You heard him gasp loudly. There was a pause and then he began. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." His raspy voice was choked and barely above a whisper. "Please.." It was a pleading word with no request. You pulled your hands down slowly and looked at him. He opened his arms, his own eyes now red and brimming with tears, he was asking to hold you. You swallowed thickly and gave a small nod of consent as you looked down.

He swept you into his arms and into his lap in a gentle fluid motion. His arms cradling your back. His face buried in your hair.

"I wasn't mad. I'm so sorry. I was just so **_goddamn_** scared. I heard what was going on.. I-," soft sobs came from his throat, "What if I lost you? How could you **_EVER_** think money could be more important to me than you?"

You stayed in his arms unable to speak, a large painful lump in your throat as tears streamed down your face. You gripped tightly at his suit jacket and nestled your head into the firmness of his chest. You just wanted to hide there. You were too overwhelmed. You couldn't take what had happened, what **_was_** happening. You couldn't make sense of any of it. Hell, you didn't even know if you had a job.

You could feel his arms around you tremble, as your own body shook as well. He seemed as upset as you. After a bit, he relinquished his grip on you and leaned back to cup your face in his large hands and guide you to gently face him.

"Don't you know how important you are to me?" He asked. A scared, hurt look on his face.

He held you there, waiting for an answer. An answer, you honestly didn't know.

"I know... I make you happy. I-I made the sales increase. I don't cost you overtime... so.. we're a great... team?" you said, parroting his own words back to him.

He waited for you to say more.

"Is... that what you think you mean to me? Sales? Money?" He said, shocked.

You averted your eyes. Your mouth opened slightly, knowing he expected an answer, but no sound would worm its way through.

"Jesus kid." he sighed. He let go of your face, and scooted you both so that he could rest his back against the wall of the shack. He slumped backwards looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

You were left in the uncomfortable position of not quite knowing what was going on, and being unsure of what to do with yourself. With fatigue; both emotional and physical settling in, and the comfort of finally being held in Stans arms, you simply let your head rest back down on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You weren't sure if it was welcome. That, however wasn't a problem for now. For now, you needed comfort more than anything.

As your arms wrapped around him you felt his body stiffen and breath hitch. His head swiveled downwards to look at you. Soon, his body relaxed and his arms slid around you in return. You heard a small rumble come from his chest as he held onto you tightly.

"It wasn't the money, kid." Stan began softly. "Hell, I mean, the money was great and all, but, getting to spend my mornings with someone as beautiful and kind as you. Seeing how slick you were with all the rubes. All the talks we had when nothin' was going on.. really getting to work as a team with someone; like we were reading each other's minds or something. That's well..," Stan let out a frustrated sigh. "That's been special to me. Look... I know you don't want some old creep coming on to you, so I kept it to myself, and I understand if you don't want to work with me now.. I just.. I never meant to go so far as to give you the impression that I didn't give a shit at all, or.. I valued money more than your life, fer fucks sake... I'm just... so sorry..."

"Wait." You sniffled. Your voice small and timid. You peaked your head up from his chest to look into his eyes. His large chestnut eyes were round and full of fear. "You-you like me?"

He swallowed thickly. His eyes looked away ashamed as he nodded in affirmative softly. Your heart skipped a beat. Stan Pines liked you. Everything your mind couldn't bear to put together was coming into place now, all the pieces fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. He was scared for you. He didn't want to lose you. He... liked you.

You reached out a still trembling hand boldly to cup his strong jaw. He gasped at the contact. You brought his jaw down towards you. He let you guide him easily. Anxiously you brought your lips up and kissed him hesitantly.

His lips were trembling and soft. He kissed back cautiously and tenderly. His large hand palmed your face as he brought you in and slowly deepened the kiss. You explored his mouth, his full lips felt amazing over your own, until at last he was the one who broke away.

Stan gazed into your eyes affectionately. "Let me take care of you." he whispered breathlessly.

So overcome with emotion, you merely nodded in return.

He was quickly on his feet and kneeling before you once again, a look of loving concern in his eyes, as he gathered you into his arms and lifted you off of the floor. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck, surprised at his show of strength as he carried you into the restricted area of the shack.

You were brought through a 70's style living room, noticing a similarly decorate kitchen off to the side, you passed both, as he carried you up a narrow wooden staircase. At last he nudged the door to a room open with his foot. It was obviously his bedroom. It was dimly lit by the daylight streaming through the window. He gently laid you down on the bed. Your face flushed crimson, not knowing what he meant by this.

"I- uhh.." Stan brought his hand back and rubbed his neck nervously. "It's been a rough day and I don't want you driving just yet. I'd like you to rest here a while. I'm gonna make you some tea, okay?" He then worked to take off your shoes and tuck you into the thick quilt.

Before he left he kissed you again on the lips and smiled sweetly down at you. "I'll always take care of you" he said passionately and earnestly, "If... that is... if you want me to."

He made his way quickly out of the room and you were left alone. It was definitely a bachelors pad. Messy, without a hint of thought-out decor. You smelled the sheets and they smelled like him. The bed was small and narrow. How long had he been alone, you wondered. You curled yourself further in the sheets and couldn't help but smile. As horrific as your day had been, Stan Pines liked you. You were in his bed. That was enough.

A little while later, Stan came back into the room quietly with a large mug of tea in his hand. He entered the room cautiously as not to disturb you if you had fallen asleep. He had found you still very much awake, and watching his entrance thoughtfully.

Shyly, he sat next to you on the bed, and handed you the cup gingerly. You sat up and took a couple sips. It was Earl Grey and the taste began to relax your tensed nerves. You sighed into the tea and set it carefully on the nightstand.

"Umm.. okay.. well, I should let you get some rest, I'll close up the shack today. Do you need anything else?" Stan said, his eyes still wide and anxious.

You timidly grasped at his arm and his mouth fell open as he look astonished at the contact. "Stan?" you asked.

"y-yes?" He replied softly.

"Would you stay with me.. in-in bed?" You looked up at him with large hopeful eyes, biting your lower lip softly.

"Is that really what you want? Me?" he asked breathless.

"Yes" You responded in a whisper.

He got up off the bed and began to slowly take off his suit jacket and shoes. He untied his red ribbon bowtie next and left it with his jacket. and began to make his way to the bed. You held up a hand to stop him.

"You know.." you started nervously, "I've umm.. seen you in your boxers and wife beater before. It's okay... I think you might be more comfortable."

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking at you lovingly.

"Of course." You said smiling softly. "Anyways, I've always enjoyed the view." you added shyly, and a crimson blush hit him from the tips of his ears disappearing into his button up shirt.

He slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, and let it slide off of him, and then worked to undo his belt buckle and quickly his pants joined the mess on the floor. He stood before you, bashful, in his usual morning clothes. You scooted towards the wall to make room for him, as he got into bed with you.

Once he was in bed, he pulled you close to him, gathering you in a protective embrace kissing your hair tenderly. You curled up inside his arms, nuzzling into his chest; feeling safe and warm.

"Stan?" you whispered dreamily.

"yeah?" he replied.

"Is this considered overtime?" you teased softly.

He let out a rich belly laugh and hugged you closer. You smiled and felt your eyes grow heavy as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.


End file.
